THE OPTIMISTIC OCTOGENARIAN #1B

Mercury Years

Some years ago Uncle Bobby sent a letter from his home in Salt Lake City, Utah. Uncle Bobby did not think the “golden years” were so golden. He wrote he had diabetes, was in a wheel chair, and awaited death as his escape from a painful life. He was in the promised-land shortly after the letter arrived and never attained Mercury years.

Aunt Enid spent  every minute of her Mercury years by griping. Nothing was ever right. In a loud voice she harassed the  people about her, complaining about the food, “stinkin’ soup” and “rotten cheese”, and the service, She moaned about the people who visited her and the people who didn’t bother. She always had something to groan about. She died at age 82, still griping.

Good health and a cheerful attitude are serpents in Mercury’s rod, and they are needed for happiness in the Mercury Years. 

I remember my neighbor’s mother who lived to celebrate her centennial, and passed to heaven at age 102. In her 80s she walked  down a steep hill, climbed on board a bus, and after mass, she spent mornings at the Senior Center, knitting and crocheting and talking to people. She spent afternoons reading fiction and mysteries. At age 90 she visited the Vatican, insisting, “When I get to the promised land, I want God to know who I am.” God waited 11 years to gather her in His arms. She hoped he would not have forgotten her. Fortunately God is immune to time, and does not consider the number of our years, only that we have used them well and enjoyed them.

Old age can be a blessing or a curse, or both. The Bible tells me I will reap what I sow. That makes sense to me. But when I feel that my life is about to begin, I suddenly realize it is closer to over. Maybe I should stop planting seeds and plant pots of flowers, or better still buy bouquets and enjoy the flowers now. I may not live to see my 102nd birthday in 2036, so I can enjoy the hyacinths that feed my soul and the daffodils to keep me from feeling lonely now.

-to be contd.-